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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852992">All Hallow's Eve</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93'>Whedonista93</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spooky Season 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bonfires, F/M, Halloween</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:55:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tormund introduces Sansa to an old Wildling tradition.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tormund Giantsbane/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Spooky Season 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All Hallow's Eve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Tormund!” Sansa calls out, voice bordering on panic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hears his footsteps behind her. “Aye, love?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why is there a bonfire in the back meadow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tormund does a double-take out the second story window that overlooks the meadow. “Bloody bastards started without me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Started what?” Sansa demands, squinting at the forms meandering around the fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve never been this far North on All Hallow’s Eve, before, have you lass?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sansa shakes her head. “No.” She finally turns to look at her husband and her jaw drops. “What in the hells are you wearing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tormund is dressed head to toe in thick furs - minus one boot. He grins. “Come on. Ygritte’s things’ll be too small for you, but some of my mum’s old things might fit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sansa follows, bemused, as Tormund leads her into the basement and unearths a pile of furs from one of the cedar chests stored down there. She allows him to bundle her into the thick garments over her jeans and thermal top, then uses his shoulders to balance as he beds to help her step into a deliciously warm pair of boots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grins up at her. “Comfy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sansa shrugs. “The boots are a bit snug, but overall, yes. Now will you tell me what’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tormund just tugs her back up the stairs, out the back door, and into the meadow, Lady at their heels. Her eyes go wide. The bonfire is surrounded by Tormund’s friends, all dressed in furs like the Wildlings of ancient times.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tormund kisses her cheek, then takes off and full-on tackles another man into the snow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sansa rolls here eyes and glances around the clearing, slumping in relief when she sees Jon seated on a nearby stump, dressed in black furs, with Ghost at his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lady whines plaintively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sansa rolls her eyes. “Go on, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lady is off like a shot barrelling into her brother without any attempt at slowing down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon watches the wolfs’ antics fondly, standing to hug Sansa as she approaches. “San.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sansa squeezes him tightly, leaving her arm wrapped around his waist when they separate. “Do you want to tell me what the hell this is all about? My husband has been spectacularly unhelpful.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon rolls his eyes. “It’s… tradition, I suppose. They do it every year. Light a bonfire, bang on some drums, get really drunk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sansa laughs. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon shrugs. “A treatise to the old gods to keep the White Walkers away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The White Walkers are long gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon’s lips twist. “Like I said, tradition. Think they mostly do it for the fun of it now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sansa’s eyes roam the meadow. “I can see why. All night, I’m guessing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All bloody night,” Jon confirms.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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